The Wedding Dance
by Alive Through Writing
Summary: It's the Watson's wedding, but someone's there that only Sherlock expected. Sherlock/OC - but not particularly strong. Consider thes a prelude to things that may or may not come.


**Disclaimer:** Really, if I owned this, would I be about to leave to start cleaning at work at 6am? I don't own anything you recognize, it's all the BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle's.

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There were many things that Gregory Lestrade expected to see at John and Mary's wedding, but there were an awful lot more he did not. On reflection, the Detective Inspector realized that he shouldn't have been surprised by the attempted murder, or that he was forced to arrest the culprit, thus bringing in a few of his officers to take the man away, during what was meant to be a joyful night off. But the one thing he could not have expected, no matter how much he could ponder it, followed shortly after the photographer's arrest.

Sighing to himself as he runs a hand over his face in exasperation, he almost chuckles at the past few hours and the insanity that could only be present with a certain consulting detective around. He smiles serenely, as he starts to make his way back into the main ballroom, where John and Mary are about to have their first dance, when a pair of hands quickly wrap themselves around his face, covering his eyes, and a soft voice whispers in his ear from behind "Guess who."

His mouth drops open in shock, and he quickly turns towards the voice, regardless of how his movement affects the softly spoken person's stance. Eyes racing from head to toe repetitively, he does not move, does not breathe, his entire being in a state of complete and utter shock.

"You're meant to guess, you goof, not just turn around and resemble a goldfish!" the woman chuckles as she shakes her head. Lowering her hands to his shoulders she kisses him ever so softly on the cheek in greeting, copying his stance and looking him over quickly, taking in the changes that have graced him since their last meeting.

"Natalie Cooper" Greg almost whispers her name, still not fully believing what he was seeing in front of him. But there she stood, with her dark brunette hair in a bun, held together tightly with what most would consider too much hairspray, but brushed out to appear as smooth as the pale white skin that was her thin, delicate face.

Rich velvet lips draw into a smile as the woman steps away from the greying man. "Gregory Lestrade" she replies tilting her head to the side ever so softly, "you know, it's not really a guess once you've seen me." Her soft smile stays wearily in place as she awaits the response that takes merely seconds. With a loud laugh, Greg throws his arms around the woman, picking her up in excitement before twirling her around. She takes no pause before joining him in his joyous emotion, holding on tightly as she laughs along with him.

Pulling away from her ever so slightly, he smiles down at her. "I was under the impression you were primarily in Singapore now-a-days."

"I am" she nods, her smile falling into a more sedate version, "but then I got this crazy invitation, asking me to a wedding where our Sherlock was going to be the best man. Best man means dancing, and I'd hate to see my hard work go to waste!"

"Well, then, you're just in time. Mind you, you did miss the speeches, and ceremony" Greg jokingly berates.

"Oh yes, because you can just see me sitting through all of that. If I had to sit through that much of a love fest there would have been a suicide on your hands, and that's not really keeping with the romantic touch, is it now?" the woman raises a single eyebrow in question.

"Dear God, you're worse than he is. You sound just like him, you know that, right?"

"Nah, not worse, just easily bored. Alright, yes, that does sound like him, I'll admit" she laughs.

"Sherlock know you're here yet?" he asks pulling away from her properly.

"I was hoping you would get him, actually. I'd rather see him before I get twenty questions from Mrs Hudson, if possible" she answers, seemingly confidently, were it not for the slight backward and forward rocking she was unconsciously doing on the balls of her feet.

"Course I will. When was the last time you two saw each other, anyway?" Greg asks, partially out of curiosity, and, admittedly, out of concern. While he loved Natalie dearly, he remembered clearly the day she left. The day Sherlock Holmes truly had to stand on his own two feet.

At this, Natalie couldn't help but look away in guilt. She had meant for it to be a short trip. Enjoy the different atmosphere, make some money, then come home after a year, but she had easily been caught up in the glitz and glamour, and her memories of home, of being with her best friend, slowly changed. She had trouble remembering the joy she felt, the exhilaration that came with a case, or the relaxation of a night in the flat, reading while Sherlock kept himself busy. All she could remember were the fights, the bickering, his unhygienic habits. It quickly became all to easy to forget what she had once loved, and so, time passed by, and the only real contact she had with her childhood friend was a quick email on holidays and birthdays.

Battling for words, Natalie stood still, memories clashing with words, moving around her head at a lightning speed, but nothing came out. Nodding in an attempt at understanding, Greg pats her shoulder lightly in encouragement. "I'll go find him, you stay here, alright?" but when no response came, he merely squeezed her shoulder once before walking into the crowded ballroom, in an attempt to find the Best Man.

Pulling herself out of her daydreaming she barely notices the small group of people coming from behind her, until...

"I do hope you didn't kill the poor taxi driver" the deep baritone voice drones, secretly teasing.

"Oh for God's sake, Sherlock, I didn't use _that_ much hairspray!" she replies sharply, turning to face the dark haired detective as he stands merely inches away from her.

"Please, you could knock someone out with less than half of what you used" the consulting detective rolls his eyes.

"This is you being nice, is it?" Natalie asks, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively.

"As a matter of fact it is" he retorts.

"Why the hell did I come back if you're going to be a stubborn prick?" she questions, partially to herself.

"Because I asked, and judging by your dress, I'd assume you weren't planning on staying long anyway."

"Well of course I'm not, unlike you, some of us actually _have_ jobs. I have to get back to mine soon. I don't just come when you call, you know. And what do you mean 'judging by my dress', this happens to be the same dress you sent me for my birthday!"

"And it looks lovely, that's not my point. There are fold marks, it's obviously been packed in a small suitcase with enough clothes for, what, a week? But you've got creases from your trip here, assumedly by taxi. You thought you were going to-"

"Oh, do shut up" she interrupts sharply.

"Make me" he replies, stepping closer.

"How about the pair of you shut up?" Greg intercedes, looking between the bickering duo.

As if an explosion had occurred, the duo turn as one to face the older man, seeming to have forgotten he was there. Looking down, as her cheeks flood red with embarrassment, Natalie nudges Sherlock ever so gently with her elbow, muttering to him "introductions."

"Oh, yes, of course!" Sherlock a smile much like his fake one used when interviewing suspects. The previous banter quickly forgotten, he places a hand on the woman's back, looking towards the utterly confused John and Mary Watson standing behind Lestrade, mouths hanging slightly open, confusion playing over their faces. "John, Mary, this is Natalie Cooper, an old friend. Nat, these are, obviously, the bride and groom, Doctor John Watson, and Mrs Mary Watson" he smiles.

"Er, right, um, nice to meet you" John starts, shaking her hand before turning to Sherlock. "Sorry, what is she doing here?"

"She's my 'date', as it were" Sherlock replies as if it were obvious.

"You have a date." John states, more out of shock than anything else. "Sorry, when did this happen?"

"Mary said I could bring someone" Sherlock replies, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Look", Natalie interrupts, standing between the two men, "how about I just go, and we all pretend this never happened, yeah?"

"Absolutely not" Sherlock refuses, as his hold on her somewhat tightens.

"No" Mary replies, "no, there's no reason for that. I told Sherlock he could bring someone, and, while it would have been nice if he had let us know, he is well within his rights to do so. Now, can we move this along? There's a first dance to be had!"

"Of course, you're right" John smiles, albeit somewhat forcedly. "It was lovely to meet you, Natalie. I look forward to speaking with you later on." Raising his arm to his now wife, he leads her into the main ballroom.

Looking between the newly married couple and Natalie, Sherlock ponders whether or not he should be walking her in in the same fashion, before seeing her smile.

"Go on, Sherlock. They can't dance if you don't play!" she encourages him.

"How did you know about that?"

"I know lots of things, love" she winks before turning back to Lestrade. "So, Detective Inspector, would you care to walk me in while our dear friend sets himself up?"

Glancing quickly towards the suddenly jaw clenched consulting detective, Lestrade internally smirks as he raises his arm to which she quickly holds onto. "But of course, my lady. It would be my pleasure" he grins.

Confused by the sudden disappointment of not only her leaving his side so quickly, but doing so on the arm of the police detective, Sherlock watches as they walk away from him, his mood improving ever so slightly when she looks over her shoulder to smile at him. A simple, reassuring gesture that, while he thought was pointless, she always did before he would undergo any form of public speaking.

The newly married Dr and Mrs Watson finish their dance to a round of loving applause as Sherlock places his violin and bow back carefully in it's case before walking off the stage and towards Janine, preparing for the second dance. It had been well drilled into his mind by a somewhat repetitive Mary that after the bride and groom had their first dance, the entire wedding party would take to the floor to start the rest of the dancing. While Sherlock did not mind the actual dancing part of this, the idea of having to dance in public played on his mind as he forcefully fixed his tails by the lapels. Dancing had once been somewhat of a hobby of Sherlock's, not that he let many people know this, and, while completely comfortable doing a waltz in his flat, the idea of doing one in front of a hundred or so strangers was in no way appealing. Yet, he did as he was told, guiding the half Irish woman onto the floor with grace and poise. Glancing towards Natalie once more, he could not help the slight smile that returned to his features at her encouraging grin and thumbs up.

The music began, a slow waltz dominated by strings, and Sherlock carefully took up hold, leading the smiling brunette around the floor. As others took to the floor, Sherlock looks back towards where Natalie had been standing, only to find her gone. Continuing the dance, the dark haired detective subtly glanced around the room, attempting to find his cream dressed date until, somewhat begrudgingly, he noticed her smiling and dancing, with the elegant air that always flowed about her as she did so, in none other than Lestrade's arms. His grip tightening only fractionally on Janine's back brought him back to his senses. Lestrade and Natalie were friends, of course they would dance together, and so were Natalie and himself, all he had to do was ask for the next dance, simple. But why? His mind questioned. Why did he feel as though he _must_ dance with her? There it was again, the possessiveness over her that he had hoped had faded during her time away, and it had most certainly not wavered in any form.

As the song ended he politely nodded to Janine before they parted, her on her way towards a guest she had met just previously, him slowly walking towards where Natalie stood, still smiling, in Lestrade's arms. Just before the music starts again, Sherlock lightly taps Lestrade's shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him as he expectantly waits for the police detective to allow him to dance with the woman in his arms. Placing a gentle kiss goodbye onto Natalie's cheek, the Detective Inspector left the two standing in the middle of the floor, as those around them started to sway somewhat in time to the gentle music. Holding out his left hand, at her eye level, Sherlock waits all of three seconds before the brunette woman in front of him lowers her head, trying to hide her soft laughter.

"Sherlock, dear, this is no place for perfect posture. You take up hold like that, we'll end up poking people's eyes out" finally raising her head, a sympathetic smile adorning her lips, she lowers his hand, bringing it closer to the two of them. Meeting his hand as it moves towards her shoulder blade, she moves it to the middle of her back. "This isn't a comp floor, or a studio, it's a wedding. Relax, no routines, no technique, just enjoy the music."

His posture stiffening slightly as she places her left hand lightly on his shoulder before ever so slowly following her lead, side to side along with the slow music. They move in silence, simply swaying until something catches Natalie's eye. "They look happy" she murmurs near Sherlock's ear, turning so the consulting detective could glance towards his best friend and his now wife. Even Sherlock couldn't ignore it, they did look happy, blissful even. But Natalie was no longer looking at the newly married couple. Taking in the profile of her oldest and dearest friend, a soft smile graces her lips. "You've done brilliantly, Sherlock, really."

Confused, the taller of the pair turns his attention towards her, attempting to understand her meaning as his brow furls in confusion. "Wha-"

"Really?" she interrupts with a raised eyebrow, but before he could respond, she answers his unspoken question. "Sherlock, when I left you no one, not really. Not like now. You have a best friend, who you just witnessed get married! Not only have you grown and let people in, you've let them start their own lives too. If that's not something to be proud of, nothing is" she smiles softly, before resting the side of her head on his shoulder as they once again fall into silence.

Ten minutes and three songs later, the pair continued to sway as one until a quiet yawn escapes Natalie's mouth. Pink staining her cheeks, she attempts to hide her face, silently hoping the far too observant man who held her didn't hear it. But as he stops their swaying, looking down to her, she knows her hope was in vain. "Where are you staying?" he asks looking down at the exhausted dancer.

Her blush only grows as she attempts to look away, "Um, well, you see, about that..."

"You haven't booked a hotel, have you?" he asks, although they both know he's right. She merely shakes her head slightly as he lowers their joined hands. "You can stay back at the flat, I'm sure Mrs Hudson wouldn't mind" he says, removing his hold from her somewhat reluctantly.

"Alright," she nods, "thank you, Sherlock". She starts to move away, before a hand on her arm stops her.

Offering his arm, as he had witnessed Lestrade doing earlier, Sherlock offers her a small smile. "Where's your case?" he asks as they leave the dance floor together.

"Um, behind a plant..." she admits with a guilty grin as together they glance back towards the happy couple and guests before leaving towards what had once been both of their homes.

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**A/N:** So, after over a month spent on coming back every now and again rewriting/adding to this, it's finally done (yay) I'm considering writing another one-shot set during The Power of Three, at Christmas, however, I'm not sure. So, let me know if you would want that... or if you want me to make a proper story for them, whether it be set before or after this.


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